


Among the Wild Trees

by nurselaney



Series: Plant yourself like a tree [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Jewish Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8212954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nurselaney/pseuds/nurselaney
Summary: "it was no surprise that when a joint NSA and SHIELD operation to bring Baasch’s organization down was set in motion, Laura Sokol was chosen to be one of the onsite agents tasked with surveillance and recon in preparation for the big day.To quote the head of her department, Director Enitan Afolayan, “Agent Sokol is the one person in world who knows Jackson Baasch as well as he knows himself. Better even.”Well, okay… there were some who were surprised by the decision. Two individuals in particular."In which Clint is an idiot, Laura is not impressed, and Sharon is frustrated. Somehow, it still works out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a gift to Court, @frankensteined on tumblr.  
> The title comes from the Song of Songs  
> “Like an apple tree among the wild trees, so is my lover among the young men. In his shade I take pleasure in sitting, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.” Song of Solomon, chapter 2, verse 3  
> I am not Jewish, nor am I Czech. I used language websites for the Hebrew, Yiddish, and Czech phrases that Laura says, if there are any corrections to be made, please let me know.  
> While Sharon in this series isn't religious, Laura is somewhat practicing, so if there is anything that I should be adding to her characterization as a Jewish woman, please let me know.

It began with a file. A file that started as a stack of accumulated information on a white supremacist leader that landed on a brand spanking new NSA analyst’s desk three years before.  Agent Laura Sokol had been working for the NSA for one whole, gloriously shitty week when someone in the higher ups decided to put her in charge of the Jackson Baasch file. For three years, any and all information on Baasch and his organization ended up on her desk, for Laura to sort through, verify, catalogue, and file. By the time it was said and done, Agent Sokol knew everything there was to know about Jackson Baasch; his history, mental state, his dreams, his favorite color, and whether or not he squeezed the toothpaste from the middle. (Spoiler: He squeezes from the very end and roles up the tube as he goes. He’s that anal.)

So, it was no surprise that when a joint NSA and SHIELD operation to bring Baasch’s organization down was set in motion, Laura Sokol was chosen to be one of the onsite agents tasked with surveillance and recon in preparation for the big day.

To quote the head of her department, Director Enitan Afolayan, “Agent Sokol is the one person in world who knows Jackson Baasch as well as he knows himself. Better even.”

Well, okay… there were some who were surprised by the decision. Two individuals in particular.

Let’s begin.

* * *

 

** June 30th, 2003 The Triskelion, Washington D.C. **

To most people, Laura probably looked calm. She’d perfected her poker face over the years, a necessity when you played cards with a retired spy and her great-niece slash protégée every weekend, and she was quite proud of her ability to not look like she was having a level ten nuclear meltdown on the inside, even when she was.

She was pretty sure, however, that Agent Philip Coulson could smell fear. Oh sure, he looked nice and all, but if there was one thing she’d learned from her exposure to spies, it was that the calmer and more put together a person was, the scarier they were underneath the mask.

Taking in another deep breath and tugging her skirt over her knees for the twentieth time in fifteen minutes, Laura glanced up at the clock on the conference room wall.

“Do you have somewhere else to be, Agent Sokol?” Agent Coulson asked, the ghost of an amused smile threatening to break at the corner of his mouth.

“No, Agent Coulson, I was just wondering who exactly we were waiting on.”

“I’m sure Director Fury and your Director Afolayan will be along shortly,” Agent Coulson replied, the calm, patient mask still in place. “Would you like some coffee while we wait?”

Twenty minutes later, Laura was sitting across from one of the most influential people in the intelligence community, trying not to be terrified. Nick Fury was one of those people who were born intimidating, he’d probably come out of the womb wearing a scowl and an eyepatch.

“Agent Sokol, you were recommended to me for this position, first by one of my own agents and second, by your superiors in the NSA. Tell me,” His glare somehow managed to become even more intense, “Why should I put you on this taskforce?”

She could see Enitan smiling at her encouragingly to her left, somehow that made it better.

“Do you know what Jackson Baasch is doing right now, Director?”

Fury raised an eyebrow, “No. But I’m sure I could make a few phone calls and find out.” He glanced over at the brunette woman sitting on his left. Her face was almost as much of a mask of indifference as Agent Coulson’s, but for a moment Laura thought she saw a ghost of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

Laura adjusted her glasses and leaned forward, “Today is a Monday. On Mondays, Mr. Baasch and the other men on the compound wake up at four am and drive out to the stables, feed the horses and tend to the cattle” She took a deep breath, glanced over at Enitan before focusing her attention back on the man in front of her. “By seven am, he’s back at his house where he eats breakfast with his children before sending them off to the school run by his sister, Charlene. Baasch and his wife, Karen, attend a morning devotion at the chapel with the other adult members of the compound from eight to nine am. He then retreats to his office until ten am, when the new members of the compound meet at the chapel for their orientation classes. From ten am until one pm, Baasch indoctrinates the newest members of his flock with inflammatory rhetoric designed to turn their anger at their lives toward the immigrant and non-white communities.” Fury glanced at the clock to their right where it said 1:30 pm.

“Right now, at this moment, Jackson Baasch is driving into town to visit his mother in the nursing home.” Laura sighed and adjusted her glasses a second time. “Mr. Baasch is a creature of habit, Director, habits that I have spent the past three years studying and deciphering. He keeps to a strict schedule, and his rules regarding members leaving the compound are ironclad. Which is why his behavior the past few months was a red flag for me.”

“You have a point, Agent Sokol?” Nick Fury’s voice had a hard edge to it, Laura felt her gut churn in response.

“The point is, Sir, that I am the one who noticed the changes, the movement of single male members off the compound to a location yet to be determined, the blanks in his usually obsessively rigid schedule, I noticed them and I sounded the alarm.” Laura paused for breath before continuing, “I am your best asset, Sir, because I know this man.”

The silence was deafening as Laura sat back and waited for the fallout of her outburst.

“Well. I suppose we’d better put you in the field then, Agent Sokol.” Fury sat back in his chair and nodded at the brunette woman and Agent Coulson. “We’ll be positioning you in the town with one of our best agents. The two of you will be in charge of finding out what Baasch and his followers are up to as well as whether or not the secondary compound exists.”

One of their best agents… “Who exactly will I be working with?” Please be Sharon, Laura prayed, I know I skipped Shabbat three weeks in a row, but please let it be Sharon.

The brunette leaned forward, resting her hands on the table in front of her. “The agent who we have paired you with was supposed to be here for this meeting, but seems to be running late. His name is Agent – “

 Before she could finish, the door flew open and a tornado flew in.

“Sorry I’m late,” The walking human disaster of a man said, just before downing the last of the coffee in his cup and then tossing the cardboard container clear across the room to land safely in the trash can without even looking. He then slumped down into the seat two spaces down from Laura. She stared at him in disbelief.

His dirty blond hair was cropped short, almost military, and his face… well, he’d obviously been in a fight recently, his face was covered in bruises and it looked as though his nose had been broken. His purple hoodie was covered in stains, and his jeans had a large tear in them. She’d just noticed the hearing aids in his ears when he turned his head to fix her with a startling, intense stare. His eyes were very blue.

“Who are you?’

Laura closed her mouth and took a deep breath in through her nose as the woman across the table said, “Agent Barton, this is Agent Sokol from the NSA. The two of you are going to be working together on the Jackson Baasch case.”

Laura stretched out a hand hesitantly, which Barton grabbed with a grin and a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know the NSA had field agents?”

“Well, we do.” Laura said cautiously, “But I’m an analyst.” Seeing the look on his face, she quickly tried to back track. “I have a lot of field training and I’m capable of handling myself, I’ve just never worked a case in the field.” No use in lying about her actual experience, he was probably going to read her file anyway. Just like she was planning on reading his.

The friendliness that had colored his initial greeting was gone, he looked… _angry_. He turned towards the director and opened his mouth but was cut off by Agent Coulson.

“I think that’s enough for now, Director Afolayan can brief Agent Sokol on the mission details and I will brief Agent Barton. If that’s okay with you Director?”

Fury stood to his feet followed by the woman, who was frowning at Barton as though daring him to say something. “Sounds good to me.”

And then he was gone and Enitan was moving towards the door, motioning for Laura to join him with a pleased smile on his face. Laura stood and gathered her things, but her focus was on the two men still sitting at the table. Barton was glaring at the wall while Couslon’s mask of indifference seemed to be slipping as the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth threatened to form a frown of disapproval.

As she let the door close behind her, Laura heard Barton angrily say, “I’m not a damn babysitter, Phil.”

 

* * *

 

For the record: It wasn’t that Laura didn’t like field work; she enjoyed it. Really. It was nice to use all of those skills she’d learned from Peggy Carter growing up. Weekends spent at her friend Sharon’s house had turned into lessons in how to kick ass and, occasionally, how to be a better spy than James Bond.

She just didn’t like field work where the person she was working with obviously thought she was just a desk jockey and was constantly acting like the mission was to keep her from getting killed.

FYI folks, “analyst” does not equal “helpless.”

Now, if she could only get that through Mr. I’m-not-a-damn-babysitter’s head.

 

* * *

 

** July 2nd, 2003 Crappy Hotel, Middle of Fucking Nowhere Texas **

“ _Nishba’_ Sharon, this _ben-zona_ is getting on my last fuckin’ nerve.” Laura Sokol whispered harshly into the phone. Agent Barton’s hearing aids were in and even though she’d locked herself in the crappy motel bathroom, she was not about to risk him hearing her. “Why the fuck did you recommend me for this mission?”

“Because L, there is literally no one on this planet, let alone in the NSA, who knows this organization’s movements and methods as well as you.” Agent Sharon Carter replied, quoting the department heads responsible for tasking her with this mission.  “You _wrote_ the damn file on Jackson Baasch, and your psychoanalysis of his strengths and weaknesses has been proven to be spot on. Your knowledge and understanding of the target is unparalleled and you are a damn good asset to have on this op.”

Laura snorted as she flipped over the file in her hands, the file she’d written over 80% of since joining the NSA, “Yeah, well, tell that to your fucking circus friend.”

“You two not getting along? Pity.” Sharon was grinning. Laura knew how Sharon sounded when she was pleased with herself and this was it, dammit.

“Oooooh _… ty devko_.” Laura rubbed her hand across her eyes, “You _knew_ we weren’t going to like each other.”

“Do you really not like each other? Or is it that you really do?”

“I’m hanging up now, bitch.” Laura said as she glared at the phone in her hand. “See if I ever bring you my mother’s kolachy again.”

Laura pushed the end call button even as Sharon began to protest. Setting the phone down and turning to stare at her face in the mirror, she frowned at the dark circles under her eyes. With a sigh she splashed some water on her face to chase away the sleepiness brought on by too little sleep and too many hours of frustration. If she had to hear that ass sing one more round of “ _99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall_ ” half under his breath, she was going to cut a circus monkey. When she turned and opened the door to the bathroom though, she was startled by the appearance of Agent Clint Barton leaning on the doorpost, flipping an arrow idly in his left hand as he raised an eyebrow at her.

“You done?” He drawled, looking down at her, gaze bored and uninterested. Laura narrowed her eyes at him and tried not to think about how utterly satisfying it would be to punch him in the face. She knew how to knock a guy out; she’d learned how to punch from the best.

“Yes.” She gritted out through her teeth.

“Good,” Clint said, moving away from the doorway to grab the rest of his gear. “We’ve got a location for the secondary compound, _finally_ , so it’s time to see if you were right about Baasch wanting to make a statement.” He swung back around to face her as he shouldered his bow and raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay, so you’ve been on a stake out before right? Stay in place, try not to attract attention, and if things go south you stay out of my way so I can handle it.”

Laura frowned and flexed her fingers, “I have a gun. That I am more than capable of using. I can take care of myself.” Field agents and their lack of respect for analysts. One of these days, she was going to kick this guy’s ass and it was going to be great.

 


End file.
